There were crashes and noises coming from somewhere in the castle. The more clever of the students thought they were under attack, and many gathered in the common room, huddling together in fear.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sprung up out of bed, prepared to face whatever was making the racket. Slowly, curiously, they made their way to the Great Hall, wondering exactly what was happening. There seemed to be a certain beat to the noises, almost like a strange sort of music.

"Dammit, Bridget!" Harry exclaimed, fire burning in his eyes as he gazed upon the noise.

"She's bloody crazy, that one," Ron commented.

"I thought we were under attack! What the hell is wrong with her?" Harry ranted, his wand still brandished at her.

The girl was up, bewitching chocolate bars to dance about the room. Her laughter filled the hair, a strange cackle amounting to something Harry had never heard before.

"Is she on drugs?" Hermione asked, walking into the room.

"Hermione, stay out of there. You don't know what else she's capable of," Harry warned.

"Cocaine, actually," she retorted, strutting through the dancing chocolate. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to help the castle get some sleep. You've woken everybody up. Teachers will be coming soon," Ron explained, hopelessly trying to warn her. She shrugged, though.

"I'm not doing anything to hurt you. Go back to bed and mind your own business," she snapped, glaring. The music that was playing rather loudly stopped, the chocolate falling to the ground as it was ignored by the spell caster.

"You might be distracting us while an attack approaches," Harry suggested. Bridget laughed.

"Isn't this castle supposed to be protected?"

"I thought it was, but your little Death Eater friend got in," Harry jabbed, pressing his wand against her chest. Bridget inhaled quickly, but not because of the approaching dangers of the boy.

The boy happened to be right. A Death Eater had penetrating the walls of Hogwarts, and though he did no harm, who's to say another couldn't come? The protections were weakening, fading, Bridget could feel it. Danger could just prance right in at any moment.

"Students," came a voice from behind them.

"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed in shock as she noticed that along with a few stray classmates the Headmaster had finally arrived.

"I think now would be the appropriate time for all students to return to their appropriate dorms, with the exception of Ms. Riddle," he said calmly, though his silver blue eyes fell on Bridget in a way that made her thing she was in much trouble.

"Watch your back, Riddle. Not even Dumbledore can put up with you for much longer, traitor or not," Harry hissed before yanking his wand away from her body and going back upstairs with his friends.

Bridget bit her lip before running a hand through her hair. She was sobered up now, awaiting the punishment that would be thrust upon her.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, grinning brightly as she tried to hide her anxiousness.

"Is there a reason you have disrupted the castle in such a way as this?" he demanded, and for the first time since she'd met him traces of anger laced his voice.

"I get bored, I guess. Unlike everybody else I have no alibi. I have to keep up this evil image as well, especially now that Potter's pissed at me beyond reason. Plus, if I don't keep myself happy I'll die of depression," Bridget added, the light fading from her eyes. Dumbledore's face softened a bit, but his stance did not.

"Detention will be in order."

"Of course."

"And I take it this means tomorrow you'll be excused from your classes?"

Bridget gasped in shock. The words were coming slowly, her brain shutting down. How could Dumbledore have seen through her mask? How could he know that when things got bad she freaked out, hiding the pain and worry with crazy antics? How could he know that things were going especially bad at that moment?

"I have to go," she pleased, begging for him to understand. "And if that makes me the traitor I'm supposed to be then fine! Expel me!"

"I can not deny a father the chance to see his daughter, can I?" Dumbledore said casually, as if she was normal. As if her father was harmless.

"He's not my father," Bridget snapped, looking towards the ground. "He keeps me alive, but he's not family."

"I trust you, Ms. Riddle, when you say that you do not follow him. In any other case I would not allow this, but you have proven through character that you hold no desire to kill the way Lord Voldemort does.

"He is your father and you must got to him when he calls or face the consequences."

"Thank you, sir."

"I am hesitant to allow this to happen, often though, Ms. Riddle," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Keeping your wellbeing in mind, it is not safe to allow you to see him often. For now, though, it would be far more dangerous to forbid you."

"Thank you, sir," Bridget repeated. "And I'm sorry for tonight. It won't happen again."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore mused. "Well, none of us can foresee the future."

--

Harry was befuddled.

He wanted so desperately to believe that Bridget Riddle was just as evil as her father, and intended to hurt him just as badly. However, ever since she arrived Harry could not make any valid accusations. She had done nothing to hurt him, aside stealing away a night's sleep. In fact, she had done nothing to hurt anybody.

She was certainly crazy beyond reasoning, and didn't hide it, but not evil. Very crazy, but not evil.

She didn't seem to care what other people though, either. She answered every insult with a witty comment and a smile. Maybe Lillian was right. Maybe she did rise above silly prejudices. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Harry made her out to be.

"I think you fancy her," Lillian stated that afternoon. Bridget had not shown up in any of her classes that day, and Harry hoped it was because of embarrassment. He cared only out of curiosity, though.

"Don't be stupid," Harry muttered. "I hate her." He did hate her. There was no waver in the dark feeling of dislike that raged inside of him.

"She could be your only hope. You never know," Lillian said, shrugging. Harry groaned.

"You really do have to get over that, you know? It's getting bloody annoying."

"What are little sisters for?"

--

Maybe it was because he was used to staying up late, or maybe he feared more chaos, but for whatever reason Harry Potter could not sleep that night.

He sat in the common room at four in the morning, staring out the window. Until, that is, he noticed somebody out by the lake. Quickly, he rushed out the door with nothing but his wand and ran to see who it was.

It was a girl, and she was singing. Something he didn't recognize, and Harry sighed. He was tired of not recognizing music. This music was soft and gentle, though, luring him in. As he got closer he could see the outline of the female in the darkness.

She sat, alone, her white looking Harry flowing in the wind. Her voice was beautiful, calming and calling him as he stepped forward.

She had to be a veela, he decided, remembering the way the strange creatures made him feel. He wasn't sure this emotion matched up, so maybe she was half, like Fleur Deloucour.

What was a veela, half or not, doing in Hogwarts, though? Harry sat down beside her anyway, his brain blanking. She had stopped singing, and instead wrote furiously in a notepad. The image made Harry laugh and she turned, realizing he was there.

Harry froze in shock.

By golly, a cliff hanger! Whatever are we going to do?